


Snorlax

by loudanaconda



Category: Stray Kids (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Age Changes, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Crack, Drabble Collection, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Multiple Genres, One Shot Collection, Pining, Shenanigans, Strangers to Lovers, Texting, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-03-13 11:22:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18939925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loudanaconda/pseuds/loudanaconda
Summary: a compilation of yoonkook and minchan one-shots.  please read the notes/tags at the beginning of the chapters.





	1. oh, labyrinth/yoonkook

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yoonkook, vampire/werewolf hybrid alternate universe, love confessions

Yoongi’s always like this. His canines are peeking out, nervous habit, nibbling on his bottom lip whenever he’s got a lot on his mind. Legs swing, swing, swinging. Jungkook’s too afraid to move. They’re too high up. So he’s frozen. Terrified. Like waking up in the middle of the night, nightmares still lingering, afraid to make a noise, move a single itty bitty inch—too risky.

 

So he just sits, legs way too vulnerable without purchase. He sits on the edge of the bridge, looking down at the water and wondering _why_ he’s more scared of the water so far below him than he is of the monster sitting right next to him. Shoulder to shoulder. A true moonchild, with silver hair, eyes full of stars, a natural blood lust triggered with just the clumsiest of offenses. Yet somehow with Yoongi by his side, Jungkook’s always felt safe.

 

The truth is, Yoongi’s always been a dying breed. He didn’t need to underline it with words like lycan and vampire and hybrid. He didn’t need any of that to be rare. He was _always_ special, a wonderful life force, something that Jungkook never got bored of, always looked up to, and never, ever wanted to let go of. He’s only known him for ten years, still, he feels like it’s been forever.

 

_Hasn’t it, Yoons, haven’t we been together for a long, long time?_

 

“Pretty cool that you can fly now, bet Joonie’s jealous.” Jungkook tells him, a chaotic giggle bubbling out of his throat as he almost loses his balance and barely rights it before he falls too far forward. The dangerous part of him almost wanting to test it out, see if he really did fall, if Yoongi would catch him on time before they hit the water. Before his heart gave out from shock. Jimin would never forgive him.

 

Yoongi smirks. “My brother could care less.” He sighs and leans back on his hands, eyes squinting under the harsh sun. The wind is cool, soft, kissing their skin, playing with the layers of their clothes. The sun is stronger, hotter, always the most powerful element when they come here during the waking hours.

 

Jungkook finally asks the question he’s been so, so terrified to ask. He can’t look at him while he says it. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”

 

Yoongi laughs, loud and abrupt. “No? What?” He laughs again and shakes his head and slowly his smile slips off his face and he takes a deep breath. “No.” He whispers, more serious this time. “Kook, I—I need to tell you something."

 

Jungkook’s heart is beating wildly. He takes the initiative to finally look at Yoongi again. He’s so—god, he’s just bewitching. Like a phoenix, like a beautiful creature alight with flames, so dangerous and alluring. And Jungkook, well, he gets lost in Yoongi all the time but for once in his life he’d really love to get lost in Yoongi while Yoongi got a little lost in him too. He wants to...kiss him _so badly_.

 

“Jungkook?” Yoongi’s asking, cheeks dusted pink with a curious look in his eyes and his pretty, pretty, gummy smile out in the open. “Why are you looking at me like tha—”

 

The words slip out before Jungkook even has a chance to stop them. “I love you.” He whispers. “I’m in love with you.” And he falls.

 

He falls

 

down

 

down

 

down

 

heart skipping in his chest, wind gushing in his throat, his entire body jerking in the open air like a small insignificant leaf and he thinks to himself that this is it. That he shocked Yoongi too strongly and by the time he realizes that Jungkook’s about to die, it’ll be too late to catch him. Jungkook closes his eyes, tears unable to break out because of the rapid, terrible, pace his body is plummeting towards the water. And then suddenly, he isn’t.

 

He’s at a standstill, just floating in Yoongi’s arms, almost numb from the shock of it all. And Jungkook might’ve been unable to cry but Yoongi’s crying _for him_ and Jungkook didn’t know that was an even possible for a creature like him, but he’s crying all the same. Getting wet, sparkly tears all over Jungkook’s face. “Oh, Jungkook, didn’t you know?” He whispers, words sweeter than candy. “All these years.” He sighs, presses a magical kiss against Jungkook’s cheek. “How much I’ve loved you. How much I love you, still." 

 

Jungkook whimpers and opens his eyes and he feels like, he feels like he’s in the middle of a glorious dream, like there’s no way, _no way_ —but there _is_ because Yoongi’s looking at him with those dangerous eyes, those cold-blooded killer eyes. And he's looking at Jungkook as if he's something _precious_ and Jungkook can't think straight, can hardly see straight, but he knows he wants this, he's wanted it _forever_ now. He reaches out, wraps his arms around Yoongi's lithe neck and pulls him in and suddenly, _finally_ he’s tasting his sweet, red lips. They kiss, they're _kissing_ and Jungkook's so elated he doesn't notice Yoongi's slowly lowering them down until their bodies hit the water. Jungkook sinks down into the murky green-blue river, mouth full of it and bubbles spraying around him, briefly disoriented before he starts to swim towards the sunlight. 

 

He coughs as he comes up to the surface for air, Yoongi's there, head already above the water, soaked and grinning devilishly at him. Jungkook laughs and pushes him as best as he can while keeping himself a float. Yoongi tilts his head, he's heart breaking as ever to look at, such a pretty boy with wet lashes and soft skin. Jungkook sucks in a sharp breath as Yoongi swims closer, reconnects their lips and kisses him again and again and again. And as they kiss and taste each other's blood and whisper well-kept secrets into each other's skin, the sun goes down and Jungkook gets a little lost in Yoongi but Yoongi gets a little lost in him too. 

 

 

  
  
  
  



	2. talk colada bs/minchan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> minchan/banginho alternate universe, slight crack, implied/referenced drug use, explicit language, north american setting, based on a true, less gay, story my brother once told me

  


Minho’s nursing a piña colada—don’t ask. Okay, it’s Woojin's fault. Minho glares at Woojin, does that thing with his head where he angles it down to make his eyebrows look more menacing as he pops his— _um, totally delicious? what the fuck_ —colada straw into his mouth and sucks on it. Some weird old dude in the corner winks at him. Minho coughs out his drink and Woojin grins, rolls his eyes, pretends not to notice Minho's struggle as he leans over the bar to continue eye flirting off the bartenders clothes. It’s a slow imaginary strip—Minho frowns deep and cringes—he hates that he _knows_ this. The bartender, seems to know it as well, seems to be doing it right back while over-polishing a single shot glass.

 

Minho says, “It’s clean _already_.” The bartender frowns.

 

Minho sighs—bored—and spins around on his stool. It’s one of those fun and fancy chairs that turns _all-the-way_ and it makes Minho feel childish and giddy and like he’s not an exhausted, stressed out, twenty-one-year-old man with responsibilities back home and a significant lack of natural joy left in his body. He leans on his elbows against the bar as he looks out at the many patrons inside the room, playing pool, slipping extra money into the jukebox so that their song gets played first (even though everyone else is doing the exact same thing), and other typical bar shenanigans. At least that's what he's gathered so far in his time spent in the U.S. 

 

A tall (and kinda fuckin’ fit) blonde suddenly stumbles towards him. He manages to appear to be both a little too anxious and a little too happy to be here. And drunk yeah, he’s gotta be some kind of fucked up because he runs right into Minho’s chest, lets out a tiny burp while he holds onto Minho’s bicep and forearm to keep himself balanced.

 

“Um?” Minho asks. He's a little bit nervous considering he's not 100% fluent in English but he figures this guy's drunk enough to not notice. 

 

“Hi.” The blonde laughs, both loosens and then tightens his grip on Minho’s arm. Minho's not sure but—well, he's pretty sure this guy has an Australian accent. He leans forward. “Need your help, baby, I need ya.” _O_ _h yeah, he's definitely got one._

 

Minho gives him The Look. Not the look Woojin is giving the bartender behind him but the look he gives people that’s sort of like a knowing head tilt someone might give to a child acting up like _oh really is that what you think? that’s cute, stupid_.

 

The blonde guy giggles, shows his sharp pretty teeth and dimples and throws his head back like it’s hilarious. At this point Minho’s pretty sure his arm is being used as a cane or a support bar. Sure enough, blonde guy uses said arm and pulls himself closer to Minho’s face. “I’m s-sherious, sweet cheeks. It’s a matter of—of bills or thrills.”

 

“Bills or thrills.” Minho repeats, completely dumbfounded. “Who are you again?”

 

The blonde huffs. Kinda looks like a little dragon with shiny scales like that rainbow fish book Minho loved the most when he was a kid— “It’s m-me, Chan, your—you brat. D-don’t you recognize your own b-boyfriend?”

 

Minho has never met this man in his life. He’d remember.

 

Chan (supposedly) suddenly hands Minho a thick wad of cash. “I’m going outside to buy some pot,” he whispers, “but I get a sketchy feeling from the guys who are selling it. Feel like they might rob me. So you hold onto the rest of my money for me just in case.”

 

Minho (a young, broke Korean boy currently vacationing on Woojin's dime, mind you) is now holding at least three hundred American dollars in his hand. He swallows and tucks it into his coat pocket. “Welp. Okay then. Good luck out there.”

 

“Thanks, babe.” Chan, aka the _total stranger_ says, and plants a sloppy kiss onto Minho’s cheek. Minho takes it like a champ.“You look so pretty tonight, did I tell you that already? God. I’ll be right back.”

 

He’s not blushing. Minho knows this man is far from sober and is probably just babbling out things he would say to anyone he was talking to but it’s been a while since he’s heard something sweet and—

 

Minho turns back around in his chair and finishes his tropical drink. Laughs a little to himself. He doesn’t see Chan again for another ten minutes and by that time Woojin has somehow managed to climb over the counter and get into a heated make out session with the bartender without getting kicked out. When Minho _does_ see Chan again he’s a little out of breath and sweaty.

 

“Let me guess, you got robbed.”

 

“Yeah,” Chan laughs, “Yeah I got robbed.”

 

“Shame.” Minho says.

 

“Yeah, I'm sorry, babe I—” Chan smiles cutely and then with a suddenly suspicious look in his eyes, he giggles, shaking his head. "I don't actually know you, do I?" 

 

“Oh that’s okay.” Minho tells him, “That’s okay.” and then slowly he leans in to whisper into Chan’s ear. “But hey, have you ever heard the one about the guy who got robbed twice in one night?”

  
  
  
  



	3. streetlight rebel/yoonkook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Are you familiar with the rules at a stop-light or was there some kind of lucky mix-up at the DMV when they cleared you for your driver’s permit?"
> 
> Yoongi chokes back a laugh. He’s honestly not as bad of a driver as this guy makes him out to be—well, at least, not normally. It’s just that one time he might have made a right on red at an intersection that clearly stated ‘NO right on red’. And then maybe he was almost instantly pulled over by none other than the same hot officer who’s talking to him right now. Alright and maybe there was a time before that when he had a broken headlight. Okay, yeah, this is the third time he’s been pulled over by this particular cop, whoop dee fucking do, so what? It’s not like he’s intentionally making a habit out of it. It’s not like he’s purposely defying traffic laws whenever he sees that familiar police car on the road. What? It’s not!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yoonkook, college kid yoongi, police officer jungkook, smut, humor, strangers to lovers, implied prostitution by a parent, implied/referenced drug use by a parent, illegal shit for days, age change, swearing and traffic tickets, AGE GAP
> 
> just a little fyi: i know literally jack-shit about being a cop and i totally bullshitted my way through this, so i'm SURE this is highly inaccurate. please don't use this hilariously poor researched one-shot as a reference to write your own police au because lmaoo that wouldn't be good, probably.
> 
> p.s. this was a prompt by my golden best friend Jenn, so yeah, thanks Jenn you're a gem ily
> 
> *important note for all the future porn enthusiasts, i typically write bottom yoongi/ top jungkook ~

  
  
  
  


“That shit ain’t mine, Frankie!” 

Yoongi’s eyes narrow. It’s a scene he’s grown accustomed to but that doesn’t mean it sucks any less. His mother is in handcuffs, struggling as the familiar man in blue is coercing her inside the police station. He says, “Oh, we’re goin' by a first name basis now, huh? That’s cute.”

Yoongi may be young, still in the single digits, but he knows that when Frankie says ‘that’s cute’ he says it in a way that means he doesn’t actually find the situation cute at all. Yoongi’s mother’s long, brown, wavy hair whips wildly as she tries to turn around, dark eyes looking desperately on the street for Yoongi. Yoongi sighs and hesitantly shuffles closer on the sidewalk, leaning his head to the side and jumping up and down a few times so that his mother can see him through the crowd of people and officers dealing with separate issues outside of the building. It’s a busy night. 

“Honey? Call your uncle!”

Yoongi blinks back at her. She's wearing her favorite sparkly backless top, black jeans, make-up streaky from tears, bare arms covered in the tattoos that Yoongi always used to ask her about. This isn't fair, they were supposed to go to the movies tomorrow, she promised. She didn't even do anything wrong this time, Yoongi's sure of it, she said she was just running to the store to get a pack of smokes. But when two hours passed by with Yoongi waiting for her on the couch he realized something must have happened to stop her from coming back home and he already knew exactly where to find her. At the police station, of course, she always ends up here but Yoongi doesn't understand why. Stupid asshole cops are always bullying her for no good reason. At least, that’s what she says. 

She has this distant look in her eyes, like she can’t really register him, like he might as well be transparent. She gets that glossy look in her eyes sometimes, Yoongi's not sure why, part of him wonders sadly if she's sick and afraid to tell him. “I’ll be back home before you know it!” She shouts. Yoongi stares at her blankly watching as she turns back and the man finally pushes her through the glass doors. 

Yoongi’s shoulders drop and his fists clench by his sides. He’s heard  _ that one _ plenty of times before and it’s almost always never true. He turns to leave but a female cop outside the station suddenly stops him. “Uh-uh, where do you think you’re going, kid?” 

Yoongi’s heart feels like it’s skipping beats as he looks all the way up at her. “I—home?”

She rolls her eyes at him and shakes her head. “Nah, we can’t let you go off without an adult. You need to wait here until your legal guardian comes to pick you up.” She calls over her partner. “Hey, Charles, come over here and watch this kid. Make sure he doesn’t leave? We can’t take him in there with all those prost—Crap, I’m gonna go see if I can call someone for him.” 

Yoongi opens his mouth to argue and say that he doesn’t have a legal guardian, surely not his uncle and  _ absolutely not _ his father, but the woman ignores him and walks away, up the stairs and into the police station. Yoongi huffs as the man she called Charles does the ‘I’m watching you’ hand signal in which he takes two fingers and points at his eyes and then one finger and points at Yoongi. 

“This sucks!” He yells, giving up and sitting down on the curb. He’s too tired for this, too hungry for this. It’s too late at night and he has school in the morning. He just wants to go home and go to sleep and wake up and find out that this was all a nightmare and his mom is going to take him to the movies after class like she swore that she would. None of this would have happened if cops weren’t such freaking jerks. 

Yoongi kicks a few loose pebbles from the street gravel as he sits and waits. Tummy growling and eyes struggling to stay fully open. Those familiar flashing red and blue lights catch his eyes, they’re coming from a nearby cop car that’s slowly pulling up across the street. Inside of it a man who looks to be older than Yoongi’s father is at the wheel, typing something into a laptop of sorts, sitting with the police car running.  

Yoongi glares at him. The officer seems too busy typing to notice. Yoongi glares harder, pours all of his anger and frustration into it. The cop closes his laptop and glances over, a sudden look of confusion on his face as they make eye contact across the road. He leans his head closer to the window, as if to double check that, yes, Yoongi is looking at  _ him _ and he’s not happy at  _ all _ . The cop pulls his face back, eyebrows furrowed into high hell and a large frown on his face. 

Yoongi lifts up his fists, doing a slow-crank motion with his right hand and gradually flipping the cop off with his left. Basically telling him  _ exactly _ what he thinks of him and all cops for that matter. It feels good, especially the cop’s initial wide-eyed reaction to it, but a tiny part of Yoongi is scared he just messed up big time. And maybe they won’t care that he’s only nine years old and they’ll just throw him in a jail cell anyways. 

The cop’s eyes narrow at him and then suddenly he raises his own middle finger, flipping Yoongi right back off. Yoongi gapes in shock. The officer smirks as drives off, keeping his bird sign up towards Yoongi and only one hand on the wheel, all the way down the road. Yoongi can’t believe this, he looks around him to see if anyone else saw what happened but it seems as though everyone else is too caught up in their own personal issues to have noticed. 

He mumbles, “Hey you guys, that cop just flipped off a kid.” Knowing immediately that no one is listening. Completely at a loss for words Yoongi looks down at his hands in his lap and fails at smothering a small giggle. And okay,  _ fine _ , he thinks, maybe not  _ all  _ cops are  _ that  _ bad. 

-

  
  
  


Look Jungkook’s had a rough day, it’s almost the end of his shift and like, the last thing he wants to do, literally  _ the last thing  _ he wants to do right now is pull over some kid (by the looks of it) for something as petty as a broken headlight but it’s kind of night outside and it’s also extremely fucking dangerous to be driving around like that and—He sighs, giving up his inner argument because it’s totally  _ useless,  _ as he turns on his red and blue lights. 

 

Sometimes it’s a little spooky pulling people over at night because he can’t see much as he’s walking up to the car and he’s naturally more on guard in the dark both from personal experience on the job and just being human in general. But he’s also grown accustomed to trusting his instincts on a deeper level ever since his first day with an official badge and he’s just—he’s not getting a bad vibe as he walks up to the drivers window so he feels more at ease, more confident as he taps the hood of the dark station wagon. 

 

The driver, however, seems  _ completely _ nerve-wracked, jumping at the sound, elbows deep in his messy glove compartment presumably scrambling for his proof of registration and/or insurance card. 

 

“How’s it going?” Jungkook asks, trying to emit a calming voice. Like it’s all good, man, just a chill guy with a gun and a badge who could totally arrest you but it’s actually chill, relax. We’re just a couple of dudes hanging out on the side of the empty dark road for a few minutes, just chilling’, it’s alllll goood. He sounds like a tool. 

 

He sighs and twists his lips, peering through the closed window that’s slowly rolling down and wondering to himself if it’s an illegal tint shade or if it’s just super dark outside tonight. He opens his mouth to mention it, stir the pot, see what comes up but the freaking window stops lowering at less than a third of the way down. Just barely enough to fit a hand through it but not any further and usually that would trigger Jungkook because it’s super sketchy and normally he would say something about that too but he’s completely distracted by the driver because he’s just—woah. Holy—

 

Okay. Let’s get this straight, Jungkook is _not_ dramatic. He’s never been dramatic, or one to over exaggerate things, he honestly doesn’t think he would’ve been able to deal with being a police officer if he _were_ or was but fuck, if this guy isn’t one of _the prettiest_ guys he’s _ever_ , ever seen. He’s wearing a green flannel shirt and his eyes are practically sparkling like two sharp dark crescent moons and his hair is an awkward dye stage shade of brown with pinkish highlights peeking out under a black beanie and his _lips—shit._

 

The kid— _ god  _ don’t call him  _ that _ —the  _ driver  _ grins nervously, baby pink gums on display, as he slides his gorgeous, veiny hand through the window, passing Jungkook his ID and car documents. And  _ that’s  _ when Jungkook decides that this—he looks at the ID—Min Yoongi is the prettiest boy on planet earth and if anyone wants to argue with that then they can just come fight him then— _ is he out of his fucking mind what the fuck was that? _

 

Jungkook does his best to get a hold of his composure, despite already slipping up and smiling right back at Yoongi, focusing on checking the expiration dates of the pretty boy’s paperwork. 

 

Yoongi watches him quietly, looking extremely soft and nervous (and pretty) and he’s  _ nineteen, Jungkook and there’s a hell of a lot more to people than their looks so stop being so superficial? Stop picturing yourself in a ring with boxing gloves on beating the shit outta multiple men with bad opinions and maybe, like, get a goddam grip? Jesus Christ, you’re a fucking cop what would your father say _ —

 

Jungkook sighs and smiles again. Right. He’s supposed to ask if Yoongi knows  _ why _ he pulled him over because it’s protocol and a sneaky ass way to trick people with guilty consciences into spilling things that the officers might not have noticed yet. It’s also one of those ‘cool cop things’ that Jungkook literally could not wait to say back when he was still training in the academy. 

 

“Alright, so, I pulled you over because your headlight is out.” He informs, idiotically. _ Apparently  _ we’re saying, fuck protocol, today then. “Not sure if you noticed that. But, it shouldn’t cost you much for a new bulb and it’s definitely important. To stay safe.” Oh  _ real  _ reassuring, Jungkook. He swallows.  _ Stay professional you nitwit _ . “And it’s illegal not to have, uh, you know, two working headlights. So, right, you need to get that done as soon as possible. Like, yesterday—um, alright?” Jungkook purses his lips together as Yoongi’s sharp eyes blink rapidly and he nods his head. 

 

“Yes, sir. Got it.”

 

Jungkook wets his lips and wills himself to not stare or prompt more unnecessary questions just to hear that sultry voice again. “Sit tight. I’m gonna go run your ID and plates. As long as you’re not, like a wanted fugitive I think I’ll let you off with a warning.” It takes zero seconds for Jungkook to regret that poor attempt at joke and half a second to realize that Yoongi’s laughing. He’s pretty sure it’s out of fear of  _ not laughing  _ and ending up with a ticket but it’s a  _ sight  _ to see nonetheless. Jungkook softly smiles and offers a curt nod before he walks off with Yoongi’s papers and temporally returns to his car. 

 

God he’s just not usually like this ? And he kind of isn’t down with it at  _ all _ ? He’s pulled tons of people over before, showed up to different locations for loads of calls and complaints and disturbances and ‘what have you’ but not once,  _ not once has he ever  _ had the thought that he would actually enjoy encountering someone  _ again.  _ This is his career that he  _ loves  _ even though there’s a lot of fucked up shit that goes down on a daily basis but  _ still.  _ He’s always been excellent at keeping his personal life and personal ‘interests’ completely separate from his work life. Until today. Because Yoongi’s thanking him for not giving him a ticket and he’s fucking adorable and unbelievably pretty, like  _ fuck _ and then he’s driving off and Jungkook thinks—he thinks,  _ fuck I hope I get to pull him over again sometime. The sooner the better.  _ And he can’t fucking believe himself. 

  
  


-

  
  


It’s been a week. One week. Almost. Just okay, five days it’s only been five days and Jungkook hates, he hates pulling people over multiple times in the same month, even, if it’s not absolutely necessary. But when he sees that familiar dark station wagon (that shouldn’t be familiar) along with those familiar plates (that, again, he shouldn’t recognize this early in the game) he basically says, fuck all that noise and finds himself switching lanes and flipping his lights on. 

 

It’s when they’re pulled over in a deserted parking lot that Jungkook realizes he didn’t even have a legal reason to pull this kid over again. So, shit. He scrambles to think of something that at least sounds legit as he’s stepping out of his car and he has mini panic attack because, honestly what the fuck is even doing right now? This is abusing power 101. 

 

It’s just that, when he ran Yoongi’s ID the first time a couple of  _ things  _ came up that made Jungkook curious about him and he initially tried to brush it off and not worry about it because he’s a cop and if he worried about everything people may or may not have going on in their lives he would legitimately not be able to sleep at night. 

 

Yoongi only had one physical arrest, two years ago when he was still legally a minor, and it was for punching a cop in the face and at first Jungkook was triggered until he had read more and saw that it was Frankie Jones. And good old Frankie is quite possibly the biggest prick in the precinct so that's actually hilarious and Yoongi’s basically Jungkook’s hero and Jungkook really wants to know the details of that incident. (He tried to research it but there was barely any more information which is super shady but not surprising considering it was Frankie that was involved).

 

Just like last time, when Jungkook gets to the drivers side of the door the window is barely rolled down. But not like last time, Yoongi’s hair is now an intense shade of black that looks unbelievably good on him. It brings out his eyes and his light, flawless skin and the natural blush on his cheeks and those baby pink pouty lips and— Jungkook clears his throat. 

 

“License, insurance and registration, please.” 

 

Yoongi’s wearing a white hoodie that he’s practically drowning in and his nails are painted black and he just seems to have a completely different demeanor than he did last week. Jungkook wonders if maybe something shitty happened and Jungkook’s just making his life worse by pulling him over for no reason. He sighs, holding the paper work and knowing he already cleared it a few days ago and there’s no point in going through the process again. He hands it back.

 

“Do you know why I pulled you over?” 

 

Yoongi frowns in a way that sort of looks like an ashamed pout. “I made a right on a red light at a no right on red...light.” His eyes dart up to Jungkook and back to the steering. “I was, um, late to class.” 

 

Oh. Well okay. Apparently Jungkook  _ did  _ have a legit reason for pulling him over, see this is  _ exactly  _ why cops ask this question. 

 

“You a college student?” Jungkook asks,  _ please don’t say high school, please don’t say high—  _

 

“Yeah.” Yoongi clears his throat and gestures towards the nearby local community college. “I’m usually early, you know, but the power went out for a minute last night and I’ve got one of those ancient alarm clocks that plugs into the wall, cause my phone alarm can’t wake me up for shit and, and like, it didn’t go off and then my c-coffee machine was  _ broken  _ so I had to go shell out a whole five fucking dollars at  _ starbucks  _ just to— “ He cuts himself off as his eyes suddenly widen and his jaw drops and he slowly turns to Jungkook like a deer in headlights. As if he just committed a serious crime by cursing in front of an officer and Jungkook has to hold his laugh back all the way down in his  _ chest _ . 

 

Jungkook sighs and nods his head. He looks deep into Yoongi’s pretty, pretty eyes. “Look, if I let you go now, think you would still make that class?” 

 

Yoongi’s shoulders drop, a face full of hope as he answers. “Uh, Yeah? Um, Yeah, Yes. Definitely. But are you—I mean, you really gonna let me just...go?” 

 

Jungkook lets out a breathy laugh, and rolls his eyes at himself. “Apparently, I am.” 

 

Yoongi grins, he fucking grins and holy shit, Jungkook might be breaking some pretty serious rules right now but fuck if it isn’t totally worth it. 

  
  


“Try to have a better day.”

  
  


“Sure, yeah, you too, officer!” 

  
  


Jungkook smiles all the way to his car but once he climbs back in he decides that he’s really pushing his luck and he  _ can not  _ let this happen again. 

  
  


-

  
  
  
  


"Are you familiar with the rules at a stop-light or was there some kind of lucky mix-up at the DMV when they cleared you for your driver’s permit?" 

 

Yoongi chokes back a laugh. He’s honestly not as bad of a driver as this guy makes him out to be—well, at least, not normally. It’s just that  _ one time _ he  _ might  _ have made a right on red at an intersection that clearly stated ‘NO right on red’. And then maybe he was almost instantly pulled over by none other than the same hot officer who’s talking to him right now. Alright and  _ maybe  _ there was a time before that when he had a broken headlight. Okay, yeah, this is the third time he’s been pulled over by this particular cop, whoop dee fucking do, so what? It’s not like he’s  _ intentionally  _ making a habit out of it. It’s not like he’s purposely defying traffic laws whenever he sees that familiar police car on the road. What? It’s  _ not _ !

 

His window is lowered just enough to see the name tag (J. Jeon) on the other’s perfectly, pressed uniformed-chest. He sinks his teeth hard into his bottom lip, totally not imagining what it would be like to ruin that shirt, rip it open and pop the buttons, see what’s underneath. “Probably a vest.” He mumbles to himself humorously at the teasing thought, knowing that all officers have to protect themselves from potential gun violence and wear bullet-proof vests underneath their uniforms. Which actually isn’t funny at all, but—But, he means, still, this man’s body looks so fit and lean, his waist so small already, Yoongi can’t imagine it getting any thinner? Better. Getting any  _ better _ . He really wants to find out either way, wants to see him when he's not so clean and proper and geared up. He wants to see him messy and dirty and bare—and okay maybe still a little bit geared up. The good gear, the  _ correct _ gear— 

 

The cop knocks on the window and leans down, his big brown eyes squinting at Yoongi through the small open space. Right, he asked him a question.

 

"Oh, uh,  _ sure _ I am, officer...." Yoongi frowns innocently. "Sorry, I don’t think I caught your name?”

 

He gets a quiet, suspicious glare in response and Yoongi instantly sees it as a challenge. Classic avoiding the conversation tactic, Yoongi’s been on the better side of that quite a few times himself. Basically the officer is going to continue giving Yoongi the silent treatment until he can’t take the awkward silence anymore and speaks first, giving the cop the upperhand. And Yoongi will probably have to answer that initial passive-aggressive inquiry about the rules of the road and all that jazz but god  _ dammit  _ Yoongi really wants to know this man's first name. For science. So, stubbornly and obviously he zips his lips and blinks back at the cop who’s patience is very lacking today apparently and wearing thinner and thinner by the second. Frankly, it’s a little bit terrifying... and a lotta bit hot. 

 

There’s a beep and screech of static, background conversation emitting from the cop’s radio. Yoongi sighs in a recipe of two-thirds relief and one-third disappointment. A car flies by that’s clearly speeding. The officer twists his body back in annoyance, fingers twitching as if they’re itching to go pull that person over immediately. It’s fucking amusing and  _ cute _ , it’s cute how much this guy seems to care about his job. Finally, officer Jeon sighs in a fashion that sounds like he’s relenting and Yoongi grins victoriously. 

 

“Jungkook.” He huffs out, jerking his chin and lifting his brows. Wow. “Look, I don’t have time for your games—Either roll down your _ fucking _ window or get  _ out  _ of the car.” 

 

“God.” Yoongi breathes out, completely blindsided and turned on by the heated irritation in  _ Jungkook’s  _ voice. Where the hell is this even coming from?  “Uh, alright.” He clears his throat and pulls on his inner door handle and Jungkook’s tongue goes deep into his cheek, scoffing as he steps back so Yoongi can fully open his door and step out. He could just like finally  _ tell him  _ that his window won’t roll down any further cause he’s a broke college student cliché with a lemon on wheels for a car but he’s totally undershot how  _ nervous  _ he gets when he sees this guy in person so he’s actually afraid to say much at all. 

 

“You’re _ kidding _ .” Jungkook comments, eyes frustrated and eyebrows no joke as Yoongi closes his door completely and leans his back against it. He struggles so hard to stop himself from smiling and then he looks down and realizes that he’s not exactly dressed to the nines, so, yeah that was a stupid move. He’s just wearing his beat-up converse, extremely ‘loved’ ripped blue jeans and an old oversized, tie-dye t-shirt. Well, it’s not like he has anything better in his closet back home. And to be honest, he’s actually pretty satisfied with his wardrobe, when he’s say, out with his friends or at school but they kinda scream ‘teenager’ and Jungkook’s clearly an adult and Yoongi’s trying to hit that, so wearing these kinds of clothes tastes like self-sabotage. 

 

Under the harsh rays of Jungkook’s burning gaze Yoongi also notes that this is the first time he’s standing face to face with Jungkook and he might be like, a lot shorter than him. Like a solid six inches, a solid average dick size shorter than him. His cheeks flush and he mocks himself in his head.  _ Push the envelope,Yoongi, great idea,Yoongi, that’ll impress him _

 

Jungkook mocks him out loud with an exhausted sigh. “How  _ old _ are you?” 

 

Yoongi knows it’s sarcastic, meant to say that he’s acting childish and he should’ve just rolled down ‘the fucking window’. He can tell from the ‘oh isn’t that rich?’ way Jungkook said it and the fact that Jungkook literally checked his drivers ID three times now so the man knows  _ exactly  _ how old he is. Still, Yoongi sees it as a tiny window of opportunity to flirt, and considering it’s really difficult to manage to run into Jungkook at all, he jumps right into it. (Or he’s assuming it would be difficult, if he were actively trying to run into him, which he totally, isn’t. The longer route to campus is honestly just a better route, okay? He passes by a Wendy’s and yeah, it might be right next to the police station but he’s only there for the frosty and chicken nuggets and that’s that.)

 

Yoongi looks at him through his eyelashes while shrugging his shoulders “I mean, I’m practically twenty-five.” He replies in a voice that comes off light-years more suggestive than he intended. 

 

Something happens then in Jungkook’s expression, so fast that Yoongi can’t figure it out, but then almost as if it never happened in the first place Jungkook’s eyes are dark again, his face completely unreadable. He sighs. “Hands on the vehicle.” 

 

Yoongi purses his lips together so hard they might bruise to stop himself from either cursing or grinning or both. He turns quickly to avoid Jungkook catching his undeniable  _ glee _ at the idea that this sexy ass cop is about to  _ pat him down _ . Once his palms are pressed against the warm metal of his car though, Jungkook re-opens Yoongi’s door and begins feeling around the seats, searching through it for anything illegal, Yoongi’s assuming. 

 

Jungkook’s bent over which is a beautiful sight, he’s got some seriously thick thighs filling out those cop pants and one of the nicest asses that Yoongi’s seen in a long, long time (at least the side profile of it). However Yoongi’s a little embarrassed of the possible content that Jungkook might find during his search, which is less drug related and more sex related. Speaking of which, Jungkook grunts and mumbles a ‘really?’ before throwing a few condom  _ wrappers _ outside on the street. 

 

“That’s uh, that’s not mine, officer.” Yoongi lies, blushing something fierce and leaning over as he speaks to try to see what Jungkook’s going through next. Shit, his center console. He tries to distract him. “Can’t believe you’re littering. Never thought I’d see the day when a respected man of the la—” 

 

“Quiet—Also if I were you, I wouldn’t move. I won’t hesitate to cuff you...Yoongi, I mean it.” 

 

It comes off as a genuine warning like, somewhere in there is the nice guy who pulled Yoongi over the first two times. And the way he says Yoongi’s name is just— um,  _ shit _ . Jungkook groans and ducks back out of the car, squinting up towards the sunny sky before sighing and looking at Yoongi. He looks, stressed out, exhausted even to the point where Yoongi’s really starting to regret driving past that stop sign on purpose. 

 

“Rough day?” He asks quietly, hands getting slightly too hot from the heat of his car. 

 

Jungkook purses his lips and hesitates to answer, choosing to close the car door instead before he leans against it just like Yoongi did earlier and looks across the street at the traffic. “You could say that—” His eyes glance back and forth from Yoongi to the traffic. “Look, sorry, I was kinda out of line there...if I’m being honest. I’m supposed to ask you if I can search your car.” 

 

Yoongi’s shoulders drop in relief and for some reason the entire situation just  _ hits him _ , hits him and he starts laughing. 

 

Jungkook looks at him with a hint of lazy amusement, lips twitching at the corners until he’s grinning and rolling his eyes. “You’re a really shitty driver, you know that?” He asks with a breathy laugh and Yoongi giggles and leans his cheek against one of his hands. 

 

“Give me a few years, I’ll catch up to you.”

 

Jungkook makes a playful face as if he doesn’t believe  _ that  _ at  _ all _ and then he lowers his eyes down Yoongi’s body and back up again in a way that makes Yoongi think—  _ oh my fucking god. No way. Did he just check me out? Am I imagining things?  _ Jungkook says, “I’m twenty-eight. And when I was your age I was already a hell of a better driver than you are now, so, you got a long way to go to get anywhere close to my level.” 

 

Yoongi snickers and really lays on the sarcasm. “Did you also walk four miles to school and back, in the snow, uphill, both ways, carrying fifty pound buckets of water?” 

 

“Alright, _ that’s _ it.” Jungkook scoffs, an extremely amused and teasing look in his sexy eyes as he pushes up off the vehicle and steps closer to Yoongi. “Hands behind your back.” He says and Yoongi’s not sure if he’s joking or not but fuck, he’s not going to risk it and he slowly drops his arms and then sucks in a sharp breath as he feels Jungkook’s strong grip, holding both of his wrists together. 

 

“Y-you gonna cuff me for having a sense of humor, officer?” Yoongi breathes out and he doesn’t mean to give away just how turned on he is by the idea but he fucking does with just his tone of voice alone so he quickly tries to add a joke. “Is this the uh, town in footloose or something?”

 

Jungkook lightly laughs, his hot breath ghosting the top of Yoongi’s ear and Yoongi feels  _ weak  _ when Jungkook whispers, harsh and heated. “Is that what you want, Yoongi? Want me to cuff you?” He strengthens his hold on Yoongi’s frail wrists by adding his other hand, slightly jerking Yoongi’s body against the car. “Hmm? body search? Would you actually  _ enjoy  _ that?” 

 

Yoongi almost chokes on air, eyes wide, mouth parted, he suddenly feels like his skin is on fire and he’s just he’s shocked? And he’s not sure what to say or how to reply even though everything in him is screaming that he should say ‘why yes, I fucking do, that is exactly what I want, actually, now that you mention it’ but he’s not sure how cops work and if this is like some weird sort of trap or not and— 

 

Jungkook’s radio goes off again and the second the noise breaks the silence Jungkook drops Yoongi’s hands. He’s got this lost look in his eyes as he steps back and hesitates and then picks up his radio and answers the call, looking at Yoongi as he does it. And Yoongi’s still just leaning against the car like a dumbass just waiting for officer Jeon to tell him he can like, stop doing that. 

 

Jungkook wets his lips and mulls something over in his head before speaking. “I’m taking this.” He says, lifting up his radio. “So,” he sighs. “Do me a favor, yeah? Learn how to fucking drive. I swear to god, if I have to pull you over  _ one more time  _ it’s not gonna be pretty.” And then as he’s walking away, without even turning back he adds, “Don’t let me see you again!” and Yoongi just watches him go and slowly gets back into his car like a zombie, so, so, so confused. 

  
  


-

  
  


Two weeks later and Yoongi finds himself in a bar. Hoseok begged him to go because he had some sort of tinder date planned and he didn’t want to go alone in case the ‘impossibly hot guy’ he’s been talking to ‘is actually a catfish’ and he needs someone to play the role of angry boyfriend cause he just ‘couldn’t possibly handle one more white guy pretending to be Korean’. 

 

So here Yoongi is being the best friend he’s expected to be. Drinking alone in a bar that he really wishes Hobi would have warned him about because it’s clearly a cop hang out. Just the icing on the cake. Also, Hoseok’s tinder date in question turns out to be even hotter in real life than he was in the pictures and he’s also a fucking fire fighter apparently, so if he can consider  _ that _ a catfish then congratu-fucking-lations, Hoseok, you’ve been catfished. God. Hobi’s gonna go home and get laid by a hot firefighter named Taehyung while Yoongi’s going to sit here and drink himself into a lonely stupor. 

 

“What are you doing here?” A familiar—soft and sweet and  _ dangerous _ —voice asks and Yoongi lowers his head and closes his eyes because, fuck, he already knows exactly who the voice belongs to and god, of course he’s here. Of course. 

 

Jungkook lets out a soft sigh and sits down on the bar stool next to him. He orders a draft beer and rest his elbows on the bar countertop. He’s wearing ‘normal’ clothes, like jeans and a t-shirt and an unzipped POLICE hoodie with the hood pulled over his hair. It’s so basic that it shouldn’t be doing the things that it’s doing to Yoongi’s body but apparently Jungkook looks fucking hot no matter  _ what  _ he’s wearing. Yoongi doesn’t turn his head he only spares him a shit ton of side glances before picking up his melting strawberry daiquiri and whisking it around for no reason (why did he order a strawberry daiquiri at a cop bar? because he wasn’t thinking, that’s why). 

 

Jungkook laughs breathlessly and takes a swig of his frothy beer once the bartender slides it over. “So, you’re just gonna sit there and nurse your girly drink and ignore me?  _ That  _ what’s happening?” He says it while looking forward towards the array of bottom to top shelf alcohol bottles on the glass display, highlighted with bright blue LED lights. It’s the only area in his entire establishment that isn’t unnaturally dark. Yoongi usually feels more comfortable in dark bars versus the bright ones filled with pool tables and guys that think beer pong is life and girls that wear cowboy boots as a fashion statement. There’s still a token jukebox here but at least it’s old and not one of those modern digital ones—which he’s reminded of the second an oldies song cracks on the speaker. Still, it’s a little hard to feel comfortable here when he’s using a fake ID to drink and the place is crawling with off-duty cops (not to mention, Jungkook who has a talent for making Yoongi nervous regardless of the environment). 

 

Yoongi sighs and sort of turns his head for a second. He lazily counts off his fingers as he talks. “One. I’m pretty sure you said you didn’t wanna see me again. Two. I’m only here because my so-called best friend dragged me here and three, this drink is the shit so, I mean, fuck off.” 

 

Jungkook grunts, sounding exasperated and he looks around cautiously before leaning in and whispering. “I said that for  _ your _ sake, Yoongi, you—I can’t keep letting you off with verbal warnings—you’re gonna get us  _ both  _ in  _ trouble _ .” 

 

“So write me a fucking ticket then.” Yoongi whispers back, their faces way closer than he realized and their eyes locking on contact. Jungkook’s eyes lower to Yoongi’s lips and back up and Yoongi feels his cheeks flush pink. 

 

Jungkook wets his lips. “You hardly have what I’d call a record. I’d really like it if you tried to keep it that way. You’re young and not to sound cliché but you have your whole life ahead of you. Stop trying to fuck it up.” 

 

He turns back in his stool and takes a deep breath before practically chugging half his beer in one gulp. Yoongi slowly turns back to his own drink, which, by the way, isn’t the shit, in fact it sucks because the bartender here is probably not used to making this kind of drink in a cop bar at all or maybe they’re just a shitty bartender. But their name tag literally says Jin which implies he was born to bartend so Yoongi doubts that. Maybe Jin just hates serving drinks to patrons who don’t have hero complexes. 

 

“I’m not that young.” Yoongi thinks, out loud.

 

“What?”

 

“I’m not that young.” Yoongi repeats, “And how do you know anyways, if I have my whole life ahead of me. I mean well, duh, everyone has their whole life ahead of them, that’s just a fact like when you’re looking for something and someone says ‘oh it’s always in the last place you look’ like that’s not obvious. Of course it’s in the last place you looked because you stop looking when you find it and of course I have my whole life ahead of me because I’m alive aren’t I? I’ve also got my whole death ahead of me and whatever comes after that.” 

 

“That’s…” Jungkook shakes his head, “Not...what I meant…”

 

Yoongi knows, he knows when people say ‘it’s always in the last place you look’ they mean that it’s always in the last place you’d _ think _ to look. And he knows that when Jungkook said that Yoongi had his whole life ahead of him he meant that he has endless possibilities and if he stayed on the straight and narrow and worked hard then, hell, maybe he’d get somewhere he’d like to be someday but Yoongi doesn’t really care. And he’s not sure he believes in all of that anyways because shitty things happen to good people every single day and there’s no guaranteed way to avoid your life getting fucked up. It’s just, going to happen if it’s going to happen. At least, that’s how Yoongi sees it. Being a good son didn’t stop his mom from being a prostitute, being a good person didn’t stop his dad from being such a deadbeat piece of shit either. No, Yoongi’s learned the hard way that it doesn’t really matter what he does, life can’t be broken in like a horse, there’s no way of controlling it. So, as long as he’s good with himself and he can still sleep at night he’s really going to just do whatever the fuck he wants to do and Jungkook— who’s essentially a total stranger— has no right to try and stop him. (Except legally, he kind of legally has that right but whatever.)

 

Jungkook doesn’t say much after that, he just slowly sips his beer and watches the basketball game on the wall TV with a look of slight disinterest. Yoongi tries to go back to his drink but he starts to feel guilty and the silence is killing him and he doesn’t want to stop talking to Jungkook so he tries to get his attention back. 

 

“Do you have a partner?” He asks meekly. 

 

Jungkook’s eyebrows raise as he turns back to Yoongi. “No,” He answers, a hint of a teasing smile on his lips, “Do you?” 

 

Yoongi’s eyes widen a fraction and for a split-second he thinks  _ I’m not a cop why would I have a—Oh. Oh.  _ Jungkook’s slyly asking him if he’s in a relationship. He thinks. Wow, Yoongi can’t stop the giddy laugh that bubbles out of him. “I—No?” He laughs again. “No.”

 

Jungkook grins and folds his lean, muscular arms on the counter top, slightly leaning his weight on them. “How was your last one?” 

 

Yoongi laughs and leans his own elbow on the bar-top, chin in his hand as he looks back at Jungkook. “Shitty.” 

 

Jungkook smiles and raises his eyebrows. “In bed?”

 

Yoongi blushes up a storm and nervously smiles back. “In  _ everything _ , he was shitty in everything.” And then they both share a laugh together. 

 

Jungkook wets his lips, his eyes sharpening a tiny bit. “My last one was shitty too, but not in bed.” He winks. 

 

“You slept with your partner?” He teases back and Jungkook groans, and rolls his eyes to the ceiling but he’s grinning like a kid. He’s  _ so cute _ , what the fuck. Seriously, what the fuck. Jungkook is like an entire decade older than him and he has the exact profession that Yoongi never wanted to involve himself with but  _ god _ , if Yoongi doesn’t want to involve himself with Jungkook something fierce. Like God, is he sexy and adorable and sweet and regardless of how much time passes between the two of them seeing each other, Yoongi just can’t stop thinking about him. He thinks about Jungkook all. the. fucking. time and it’s getting exhausting (and kind of pathetic, he barely  _ knows  _ the guy). Also, he has no idea which way Jungkook swings or if he swings at all and there’s a huge chance here that Yoongi is just writing another chapter of Pointless Pining, a memoir by Min Yoongi. 

 

Jungkook is stretching, twisting his body from side to side as he yawns and when he twists to the left and looks backwards he jumps and immediately turns back around, cursing under his breath. “Speak of the fucking devil.” 

 

“What?” Yoongi lets out a breathy laugh and leans forward to try to look at Jungkook’s face as he’s currently attempting to hide himself in the hood of his jacket. Again, so cute, how could he. 

 

“My ex.” Jungkook whispers out, eyes so serious that Yoongi can’t help but laugh. “He’s over there.” He gestures by lifting up a hand flippantly. Yoongi grins and tilts his head curiously behind Jungkook but all he finds is Hoseok sitting at a table with his date by the window, flirting up a fucking hurricane. But, there’s literally no one else on that side of the bar. 

 

“Are you sure?” Yoongi asks, half-expecting a person to just manifest out of thin air. “I only see my friend.” 

 

“Oh my god.” Jungkook breathes out, looking like he’s in a mild state of panic. “You’re friends with my ex? You’re  _ friends  _ with Tae?” 

 

“No.” Yoongi snorts, giggling so hard he can barely talk. Jungkook doesn’t seem to find any of this amusing at all—which only makes it funnier. “Hoseok is my friend, his date, apparently, is your ex.” He laughs again. “I only met him like five minutes ago.” He shakes his head as Jungkook’s body seems to at least slightly relax. And then a thought hits Yoongi, or a realization but a really, really, interesting one at that. This Taehyung dude (emphasis on dude, yes, fucking score)  is like twenty-two years old, only. He’s pretty sure that’s what Hoseok told him. So, double score. Yoongi might just actually have a chance. Except, wait. Didn’t Jungkook just say that Tae was a shitty boyfriend? He can’t just let his best friend get involved with a shitty guy. He leans closer to Jungkook and whispers again. “Is he a bad person?” 

 

Jungkook blinks back him, confused. He narrows his eyes. “Why?” 

 

“Uh, because Hoseok is my best friend? And I don’t want him dating an asshole?” 

 

“Oh.” Jungkook breathes out and shakes his head. “No, I mean, it’s not like he cheated on me or anything, he just,” Jungkook shrugs, “We just didn’t click at all. We just fought all the time about stupid shit. It just wasn’t meant to be. I don’t think he’s a bad person though, just too different and too similar to me at the same time, I guess.” He chews his bottom lip and shrugs again. “It’s hard to explain.” 

 

Yoongi nods his head and softly smiles at Jungkook. He kind of feels guilty for opening up old wounds without a second thought about Jungkook’s feelings but he appreciates Jungkook attempting to elaborate on what went wrong with his relationship for his sake. He reaches out and pats Jungkook’s (holy muscle) shoulder. “At least you tried.” He jokes and Jungkook grins and lets out an exasperated breath. 

 

“You’re literally the worst.” He says but for some reason Yoongi knows he doesn’t mean it. 

 

He grins back at him and holds his condensating drink up to him as a form of cheers. “Thanks, you too.” 

  
  


-

  
  
  
  


Jungkook wakes up in a cold sweat when he realizes what he did. He goes through all five stages of grief in the microseconds between being dead asleep and abruptly waking up. He just can’t  _ believe  _ how royally he fucked up (alright maybe he’s still in the denial stage). But oh my god? Yoongi was drinking in a bar and not once, not once did Jungkook stop to think,  _ oh wait a minute, why is this nineteen year old here illegally drinking alcohol? _

 

“This is insane.” He huffs out, sitting up in his dark bedroom, heather grey bedding pooling around his sweatpants. “He’s gonna kill me.” He whispers, scoffing and shaking his head in pure disbelief. “He’s gonna  _ ruin  _ me.” He decides, taking out his aggravation by roughly messing up his own hair. But the truth is, if anyone is going to ruin him it’s gonna be the entire station if they find out Jungkook not only allowed this to happen, but he even paid for the younger’s drinks. Not in a ‘how dare you aid and abet and break the law’ way but more in a ‘haaaaa! you fucking dumbass’ way. And they’ve been looking for dirt on him for years now so that’s a drag worth twenty to life potential. It really doesn’t help that it’s been an entire two weeks since the incident even happened. God. He used to be so sharp, how did he not notice?

 

Jungkook’s five am alarm goes off and he groans and climbs out of bed. He hates when he wakes up literally minutes before his alarm goes off. Especially when he’s sleepy and grumpy and he’s super passionate about those lost minutes of sleep he deserved to have. It’s number three in a long list of petty thoughts that Jungkook likes to recite in his head the morning after a hard day on the job and a harder night of drinking. 

 

He’s irritated as he goes for his routine morning run, as he hops in the shower, scrubbing his body too harshly and fighting thoughts of how gorgeous Yoongi looked that night away as soon as they come to him. He’s frustrated as he makes himself a strawberry smoothie and fries up eggs and toasts bread for breakfast. And as he eats by himself, at the marble bar top in his too pristine, too shiny, too empty kitchen. He’s just irked to pieces and he wants to find Yoongi and he doesn’t know, yell at him or something. Which, actually shouldn’t be that hard all things considered. Because for some reason, in the last few days, Jungkook keeps spotting Yoongi’s black station wagon on his routes. 

 

There’s something else that Jungkook’s taken great note of, Yoongi keeps breaking the law. And it’s to the point where it’s starting to feel intentional, like he actually  _ wants  _ Jungkook to pull him over. So Jungkook has been just as intentionally ignoring him (even though it actually hurts his soul to hold back) as to not encourage him. Which, he knows, sounds ridiculous but he swears to god Yoongi is doing this shit on purpose. There’s  _ no way _ someone with only one prior that wasn’t traffic related has suddenly become a shitty driver in the span of a few months. And Jungkook’s not sure how he feels about it. Because, well, Yoongi’s admittedly the most tempting thing he’s ever laid eyes on but he’s also a good chunk younger than him and  _ trouble _ —he’s trouble, Jungkook  _ knows it. _ Part of him, a deep seeded part of him suggests that maybe Yoongi isn’t trouble at all and maybe Jungkook is just making excuses up because he’s afraid of how badly, how intensely, how earnestly he wants Yoongi and how he’s never felt this way before in his fucking life and he doesn’t know how to handle it. But god forbid he dive head first into something  _ real  _ for a change. 

 

Jungkook smooths down the pockets of his uniform shirt, checking his appearance in his floor length mirror until he’s satisfied. One thing's for sure, he thinks as he grabs his keys to head out, if Yoongi appears today, Jungkook’s  _ absolutely  _ pulling him over. 

  
  


-

 

It’s a long day in general, Jungkook’s working a mid shift and the sun is just baring down on the city so harshly (he’s already finished off at least five bottles of water) that even with his a/c fixed and working properly he still feels like he can barely breathe. Also the heat is slowly working his body into a compelling argument about why he should go to sleep, right this minute. Just let go of the wheel and succumb to the sweet embrace of slumber and just pass the fuck out because everything will be totally fine. He won’t like crash into pedestrians or another car or a building and lose his badge and ruin his life or anything. 

 

Jungkook groans, flipping on his blinker and turning his wheel to glide over a few lanes and turn into the upcoming Starbucks. He clearly needs caffeine before he sets up for that speed check he’s supposed to be doing sometime today on 5th Avenue because sitting idle in the car is only going to make him want to fall asleep even more. He lightly laughs as he gets to the drive-thru and remembers that endearing little rant that Yoongi had gone on about his coffee machine breaking and needing to spend money here and—Great. He’s  _ still  _ thinking about Yoongi, this is unbelievable. 

  
  


-

 

When Jungkook was a rookie, everyone, even the captain always trashed him for having the lowest ticketing count in the district. Saying he was too scared for confrontation and basically should have never been a cop in the first place and so Jungkook might’ve totally hated that and took it as a challenge to prove them all wrong. Five years later, speed trappin’ on 5th Ave. Jungkook’s thinking ‘look at me now, bitches. I’m goddamn Oprah, everybody gets a ticket, I’m the motherfucking write up King’. And yeah, he’s only flagged people who were actually going like ten over the limit and it might be a heavy traffic day but he’s still basically killing it—and no, they don’t have a quota, that’s just bad information from the speed demon peanut gallery.

 

But yeah, he’s feeling kind of good about himself, really starting to get that second wind (which is honestly terrible timing he’s still got a good five hours left to work, but okay) and then, he fucking sees it. Him. Sees him. It’s Min fucking Yoongi in that beat up wagon and he’s fucking  _ flying _ down the road. Like Jungkook literally clocks him at 90 miles per hour (oh hey metric system, America says it’s happy with its current measurement provider, thanks, have a spectacular day) and 5th Avenue is a 50 MPH zone, okay? So this is  _ not  _ okay? And Jungkook’s  _ pissed _ as he punches his foot on the gas and flicks on his emergency lights, tearing off the shoulder of the street and weaving into traffic. 

 

“Oh. You’ve gotta be fucking  _ kidding  _ me!” Jungkook shouts, hands gripping his steering wheel tight as hell as he froggers his car through all the heavy traffic that he was grateful for five minutes ago but really starting to resent now. Like what do they even need to do on a _ Tuesday  _ like where are they  _ going _ ? Idiots. Jungkook scoffs as Yoongi, who he’s slowly but steadily catching up to, has the fucking audacity to turn on his blinker while he’s still soaring down the road. Like really? you’re going to obey  _ that _ law but ignore all the others? And Jungkook’s heart drops at the way Yoongi’s station wagon tilts as the dumbass makes the sharpest turn Jungkook’s ever witnessed in his life. So, of course, Jungkook presses harder down on the gas and mirrors the exact same move once he gets to the by-street. 

 

Now, Yoongi might’ve had the head start and upperhand on the main road but this street is practically deserted and unlike Yoongi, Jungkook’s trained for this and he has a straight shot to catch up to Yoongi in seconds if he really times it right. He’s been in chases before but he’s never felt  _ this  _ adrenaline rushed, this furious and fucking excited, he’s excited even though he knows that’s the last thing he should be feeling right now. But he’s catching up, Yoongi’s grandpa wagon never really stood a chance and then Yoongi’s turning again, pulling into this neighborhood that might as well be abandoned considered it’s in a run-down part of town so Jungkook has no idea why they’re even here. Yoongi’s car starts to slow down as he pulls up under a secluded bridge and then just slams on his stupid looking rectangular brakes. Leaving Jungkook no choice but to do the same if he doesn’t want to crash right into him and he only kind of does, so he brakes so hard that he has to turn his squad car just to avoid flipping it. 

 

Jungkook puts his gear in park so hard he’s shocked he doesn’t just break the damn thing but he doesn’t care anyways as he brutes out of his vehicle and doesn’t even bother to slam the door shut either. He’s just pissed and he’s honestly gonna fucking strangle this kid because he clearly has no idea how dangerous of a stunt he just pulled was and how he could have fucking died or killed somebody or both and how if any of Jungkook’s fellow officers happened to be around this entire thing would have gone so fucking sideways and Yoongi would have gone to jail in a heartbeat and Jungkook’s not sure if he can actually  _ not _ arrest him this time like, fuck. Fuck. Why can’t this kid take better care of himself? Why can’t he just be a normal starving college student that gets all heavy into politics and goes to fucking parties or better yet stays home and studies and sleeps past eleven a.m. and most importantly stays safe? Just what the  _ fuck _ . 

 

Jungkook’s half tempted to grab his gun as he nears Yoongi’s window but he instantly decides against it because hello, better judgement, it’s been a while, how’s the wife and kids?—So he just shouts, “Yo, what the  _ fuck  _ were you  _ thinking _ ?!” And he expects Yoongi to be either shaking in his cute little boots in the driver’s seat or knocked out on the steering wheel with a concussion for braking too hard but no. No, Yoongi pops open his door, totally fine, and practically jumps out of the car. And before Jungkook, a professionally trained officer mind you, can even blink or think or say _ anything _ , Yoongi’s mouth is on his.

 

And his hands are pressed against Jungkook’s neck. He’s kissing him, Yoongi’s fucking kissing him, aggressively, needily and after barely any hesitation Jungkook’s body acts on it’s own, kissing those sweet pretty lips right back with just as much intensity. He tightly grabs onto Yoongi’s small hips and presses his fingers hard into his soft flesh and Yoongi moans into his mouth. The hottest little moan that makes Jungkook even more eager, more desperate to shove his tongue down Yoongi’s throat and kiss him harder. So he  _ does _ because fuck everything and anything, none of it matters anymore. Not in this moment. Not with the wind rushing past them and pulling Yoongi’s oversized black t-shirt every which way, giving Jungkook’s hands the opportunity to just run higher and higher up Yoongi’s smooth sides and squeeze his adorable tummy and just,  _ fuck.  _ Fuck, his lips are so pouty and delicious and his mouth tastes like mentos or something else, just sugar and menthol and he’s kissing Jungkook so good and hard like he wants this  _ so bad _ , like he thinks he wants this more than  _ Jungkook  _ does and he’s trying to prove it. 

 

Jungkook’s groaning, drowning, fading into the feeling of Yoongi’s pretty tongue in his mouth, of how good Yoongi kisses and how gorgeous every single moan he makes sounds. His hands are exploring everywhere, threading through Yoongi’s bleach-damaged hair, tugging on his loose shirt, sliding down over his soft, round ass and just pulling him closer. And he just wishes so badly that he wasn’t wearing all this stupid gear so he could really, really feel Yoongi’s body pressed flush against his own. But still, Jungkook loves this, he fucking loves this, how could he not? Nothing has ever felt better, ever, ever, ever. He loves that he has to angle his face slightly down to meet Yoongi’s lips, he loves that Yoongi’s body feels so small and sexy in his hold, and most of all, as much as he shouldn’t, he loves that Yoongi is so full of fire that he would break the law, risk his life just to get Jungkook’s attention. And that right there  _ is trouble  _ if Jungkook’s ever heard it. 

 

Yoongi’s just killing him, smothering him, getting him so hot with the quick, heated, breathy gasps he takes every time he briefly disconnects their lips only to get a half shot of air and the deep hum of satisfaction he makes when he gets his eager mouth back on him. And Jungkook can’t help himself, he’s rock hard and he can feel that Yoongi is too and he just can’t help it. He pulls back from Yoongi’s mouth, keeping their lips together and sharing hot oxygen and he turns their bodies with ease and pushes Yoongi’s back up against the car. Yoongi groans, low and heated. “Oh,  _ god _ yes _. _ ”

 

Jungkook smirks, closing back in on him, eyes aroused and teasing. His hand is sliding down Yoongi’s peach fuzz happy trail and cupping his erection through his thin black joggers. Yoongi lets out a stuttered breath, eyes widening a fraction, mouth parting more sensually against Jungkook’s. He moans, high-pitched and his fingers dig into Jungkook’s shoulders when Jungkook squeezes his cock and immediately slides his palm up and into the band of Yoongi’s boxers. Just going straight for it because he can’t wait. “Fuck.” He groans as Yoongi’s lids close in pleasure and Jungkook feels him, actually feels Yoongi’s cock against his skin, wet and smooth and hard as stone. He’s seriously so wet, just leaking with so much pre-cum that Jungkook doesn’t even have to do much work to spread it all over Yoongi’s length and begin giving him a tight, rough, handjob. 

 

“Fuck, Yoongi. That  _ shit _ you pulled—” Jungkook huffs out, keeping his hand a steady, orgasm inducing rhythm. Yoongi moans and throws his head back, baring his neck for Jungkook to see, and admire and fantasize about sinking his teeth into.  “You’re un-fucking-believable. I should fucking  _ arrest _ you.” 

 

“Oh shi— _ uh _ —wait. _ No _ .“ Yoongi moans, opening his lids halfway, grinding his hips up into Jungkook’s firm grip, hands pressing flat against the car near the sides of his body. Almost like he’s using the car for leverage to fuck up into Jungkook’s hand. Like even with Jungkook working him hard and pointed and without restraint, it’s still not  _ enough _ for him. So greedy. Jungkook just  _ lets  _ him, wets his lips and  _ watches  _ him. “Don’t— _ god _ .” Yoongi’s voice is low and breathy and dripping with arousal and a heavy hint of that kind of damsel in distress sexual persuasion. The kind that Jungkook’s used to young women using when they wanna act innocent and flirt their way out of a ticket. The only difference is that Yoongi’s really fucking good at it. “Don’t arrest me. Keep touch—touching me.” His eyes flutter lazily. “Don’t you want to?” 

 

Jungkook briefly tilts his head, a haughty smile flashing on his lips before he leans closer, drags his mouth against Yoongi’s lithe neck,  _ loving  _ the way his soft skin tastes. “Really? You think that’s gonna work on me?” Yoongi shivers and moans against Jungkook’s hair, moves his arms, pressing his palms into Jungkook’s back, embracing him in a heated panic and he starts thrusting his hips up harder with the slide of Jungkook’s grip. Jungkook grazes his teeth over Yoongi’s throat and licks all the way up to Yoongi’s pierced ear, “I think you’re forgetting my  _ age _ , I think you’re forgetting that I’m a  _ cop _ , baby, I’ve heard it all before.” He bites down on Yoongi’s ear lobe and groans as he sucks on it and closes his eyes, absorbing Yoongi’s pretty mess of a response, and he starts to work Yoongi’s cock even faster to chase those perfect sounds, to eat them all up. He moves his mouth to Yoongi’s ear canal and licks inside of it with a groan before breathing hotly against it. “What you did was fucking  _ reckless _ and I really can’t let you get away with it this time.” 

 

“Ohh. I— _ Oh _ .” Yoongi breathes out, sounding like such a fucking wreck, like he can’t even get his words out properly and Jungkook absolutely loves it, is so fucking hard for it. “Lemme— Ah, shit.” Yoongi moans and digs his blunt nails into Jungkook’s back, he can feel the urgency right through the material of his uniform shirt. “Mm. Kook, let me— _ God _ .” 

 

“Hm. What was that?” Jungkook taunts, squeezing his hand harder around Yoongi’s cock, almost enough to hurt him. Yoongi lets out a stuttered gasp and another abrupt moan. “You tryna tell me something sweetheart?” 

 

Yoongi opens his mouth to answer but Jungkook captures it with his own and kisses him hard and wet and deep, as deep as he can shove his tongue inside of Yoongi’s delicious mouth. He’s so fucking sweet and pretty and sensual and Jungkook wants to fucking devour him. Yoongi does his best to keep up, to kiss him back, from tentative to bruising, hands sliding lazily down Jungkook’s back and body lax from all the energy Jungkook’s practically stealing from him in the heat of the moment. 

 

“Tell me.” Jungkook breathes out, hot breath mixing with Yoongi’s as they both catch their breaths and Jungkook keeps jerking him off without any mercy at all. He’s got none of it left at this point, Yoongi’s utterly and completely pushed him past his limits. “What do you have to say for yourself?” 

 

“Slow—” Yoongi moans hard, hips involuntarily jerking up. “Oh my god. Slow down. If you don’t I’ll— “

 

“What, you don’t wanna cum yet? Yeah, well I don’t care what you want.” Jungkook says, voice firm and husky from breathing so hard. He presses his clothed erection hard against Yoongi’s hip, and brings his mouth back to the ear he practically made out with and bites down on it again, sucking it with a low groan. 

 

“Fuck, fuck.” Yoongi’s body seems to give in, he starts to pull his head backwards and close his eyes again and allow his hips to cant up into Jungkook’s hand. And Jungkook just wets his own lips and watches Yoongi fall to pieces right in front of him. He’s so fucking beautiful especially like this and Jungkook should really care about what he’s doing right now and how illegal it is and how wrong it is but he just can’t bring himself to. It’s worth it. Seeing Yoongi like  _ this  _ is worth it. Watching him spasm and moan and cum all over Jungkook’s hand is the hottest thing he’s ever, ever, seen and he wants to commit it to memory forever. 

 

Jungkook slowly releases his hold on Yoongi’s softening member and he brings his cum-soaked hand to his mouth, closing his eyes and moaning as he licks Yoongi’s cum off his skin. “You taste so  _ good _ .” He breathes out and when he opens his eyes Yoongi’s down, on the street on his fucking knees, looking up at him with the most lustful look Jungkook’s ever seen in his eyes. 

 

“Let me make it up to you.” Yoongi says, voice hoarse, and it takes Jungkook a second to realize that Yoongi’s talking about all the traffic shit he pulled but Yoongi doesn’t wait for permission and before Jungkook has a moment to think it over, Yoongi’s unzipped his pants and pulled Jungkook’s achingly hard cock out through the slit in his briefs. “Yeah,” He says, staring unabashedly at Jungkook’s erection in his hands. “I  _ really  _ need you to fuck me sometime.” 

 

Jungkook sucks in a sharp breath as Yoongi’s pretty tongue licks all the way up the thickest vein in Jungkook’s throbbing erection, and he kisses the head with those plush lips of his, lapping up the pre-cum that transferred on his mouth. Jungkook moans and his cock twitches in Yoongi’s big, gorgeous hands. Jungkook can’t help but notice that his nails are still painted black and it makes Yoongi’s hands look even sexier wrapped around his dick. “Christ, you’re hot.” Yoongi comments before lightly covering the head of Jungkook’s cock with his warm mouth, tongue playfully licking against his slit, and hands smoothly sliding up and down his length. Yoongi moans around the head of his cock and pulls his mouth off, peppering hot, wet kisses all over it, down to the base and back up again, hands barely gripping around Jungkook’s eager erection. It’s so teasing, the way he touches Jungkook, like he wants to play with him and take his sweet time and Jungkook loves it but it’s also driving him insane because he’s unbearably hard right now. 

 

Jungkook groans and grits his teeth and roughly threads his fingers into Yoongi’s hair, forcing him to look up into his eyes. “Thought you wanted to make it up to me.” He breathes out, pushing his cock up against Yoongi’s soft cheek. “Do it then. Show me how sorry you are.” 

 

Yoongi looks all sorts of turned on again as he curses and immediately listens, parting his lips and sucking Jungkook’s head in eagerly, keeping his eyes locked straight with Jungkook’s. Which is so hot, so fucking hot, Jungkook loosens his grip on Yoongi’s hair and just watches him while he gets watched right back. It feels so dirty, watching Yoongi suck him off like this, watching his thick cock twitch in Yoongi’s tight, wet, mouth, and yet the uninterrupted eye contact is making the whole thing feel sort of intimate. Jungkook had no idea how badly he needed this. How irrevocably  _ gone _ he is for Yoongi and the way Yoongi makes him feel is just—there’s no fucking comparison. He’s never wanted someone in every which way possible this badly before. Ever. And Yoongi’s sucking him in so well, moving his tongue like magic and moaning around him so prettily and touching him so perfectly. Jungkook wants to spill his load right down his throat and see it spill out of the corners of Yoongi’s lips. He wants that image embedded in his brain. 

 

He moans and softly presses his palm against Yoongi’s hair. “You’re doing so good, baby. So good, look how fucking pretty you are like this.  _ God _ .” 

 

Yoongi moans, must be enjoying the praise so Jungkook keeps going and starts to gently push his hips into Yoongi’s mouth. 

 

“Wish I could fuck you right now. Wish I wouldn’t completely fucking lose it the second I stuffed my cock in your pretty ass.” 

 

Yoongi moans louder this time, eyes briefly shutting and reopening with tears in the corners and Jungkook starts to, moan a little more carelessly and fuck into Yoongi’s tight mouth a little more urgently.

 

“You drive me crazy, you know that? You’re a fuckin’ addiction. Gonna get me in so much trouble.” 

 

Yoongi moans, getting messy as hell as he blows him, hand coming up to squeeze around Jungkook’s base and mouth sliding as far down Jungkook’s length as he can manage. Jungkook’s getting messy himself, finally closing his eyes because the pleasure is just too much to handle and he feels himself twitching and pulsating erratically against Yoongi’s tongue, his hips thrusting on their own accord, body chasing an intense orgasm that’s already giving him whiplash from all the euphoric tingles it’s shooting through his body. 

 

“Gonna,  _ fuck _ , Gonna cum, baby, you want it? Want my cum in your sweet mouth, huh? Be a good boy for once?” 

 

Jungkook briefly opens his eyes to see Yoongi looking back up at him, with just the slightest nod of his head and eyes full of anticipation and fuck. Fuck, if that’s not something else to add to Jungkook’s growing list of the hottest things he’s ever seen. He moans as he feels his orgasm hit him hard and delicious and all encompassing, he can feel it all the way through the tips of his fingertips as he releases right into Yoongi’s welcoming mouth, hand caressing Yoongi’s cheek as his hips stutter and he finishes inside of him. And Yoongi swallows every drop with a handful of lovely moans like it’s the best thing he ever tasted. 

 

Jungkook’s silent as he helps put Yoongi back together, going so far as to pull up his sweats for him, fluff out his t-shirt and fix his adorable sex-hair. He keeps sighing, because he can’t believe he went this far, he can’t believe Yoongi went this far and considering how quiet Yoongi’s being, he probably can’t believe it either. He kisses Yoongi’s cheeks softly before letting out another sigh and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fuck. I can’t  _ not  _ write you a ticket, Yoongi.” He shrugs his frustrated shoulders. “There’s literally no way around it, I mean—“ He gestures towards his  _ still running  _ squad car. “I have a dash cam. Luckily it’s fucking sideways right now, but it sure as shit caught that car chase bullshit—I just.  _ Shit _ .” 

 

“Jungkook.” Yoongi grabs his wrists gently and pulls his attention back to him. “It’s alright. Just write it. I don’t know what I was thinking—I know I don’t wanna fuck your career up, though, I know  _ that _ much. So stop, hesitating, okay? Just write me the ticket.” 

 

“Do you _ know _ how much speeding tickets run? You can’t even afford it! You’re a goddamn college student. And no offense, but your car is a piece of shit, so I doubt you have any extra cash just lying around.” 

 

Yoongi lets out a breathless laugh and rolls his neck. “Fine then I’ll sell my  _ piece of shit  _ car to pay for it.” He grins as he moves closer to Jungkook’s face. “And I’ll take the bus everywhere, your dream come true.” 

 

Jungkook, at this point, has clearly lost his mind. He starts pacing in circles as he racks his brain for solutions. “Maybe I should just buy you a new car, yeah, then it won’t matter if you sell that stupid thing.” 

 

“Jungkook!” Yoongi interrupts with an exasperated giggle. “Calm down. Please? Will you please just listen to me for a second?” 

 

“What?” Jungkook groans, tilting his head impatiently as he waits for Yoongi to talk. 

 

Yoongi smiles at him. “You’re really fucking sweet, you know that? But I can take care of my own problems.” 

 

Jungkook drops his shoulders, heart doing funny flips in his chest, and he finally finds himself relaxing a bit. “I don’t want to make your life harder. I just don’t want to be that guy.”

 

“You’re not.” Yoongi tells him, hands slipping around Jungkook’s neck, he presses a soft kiss to Jungkook’s lips. “Just— _I_ fucked up. Let me own up to my own shit, okay? _Please_.”

 

Jungkook locks his jaw and crosses his arms. “Fine. On two conditions.” 

 

“What?” Yoongi laughs and sighs. “Shit. okay, I’m listening.” 

 

“One: You let me take you out on a date.” 

 

A slow pretty grin takes over Yoongi’s face. “Sure.”

 

“And two: you tell me why you punched Frankie Jones in the face.” 

 

Yoongi spills out a hard laugh, shakes his head and kisses him again, sweeter this time. “You got yourself a deal, officer.” 

 


	4. weed garden/minchan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> minchan, angst, unrequited love, lapslock, drabble (this was supposed to be me writing a hanahaki fic and it somehow ended up being this instead ahhaah) thanks for reading <3

 

 

han jisung is his best friend, his bestest friend, the _best of the best_ , he cannot stress that enough!

 

still. _still_. there’s this warm little seed nestled in his chest that aches something fierce. that feels a little incomplete, unbalanced, lonely, even. like something’s _missing_ —someone _else_ is missing. like even with everything minho has in his life to be grateful for he still finds himself wanting just a little bit more.

 

and, god, it would all be so simple if jisung was the one that minho pined for. piece of cake, easy as pie. seems like jisung’s been waiting for him for forever now, arms open and hand outstretched, minho only needed to reach out and take it. he _knows,_ he knows jisung probably loves him, might really, actually be in _love with him_ —but he just can’t bring himself to return the sentiment. he’s _tried_. and he hates himself for failing. he _loves jisung_ —just not _that_ way. he settled that one a long, long time ago.

 

but guilty. god, he feels _so_ guilty for it even now.

 

and chan, _geez_. chan is just—the worst, worst, _worst_.

 

he’s so selfless _all the time_ putting everyone else before himself and it’s getting _old._ it’s starting to feel selfish of him, actually, how ironic. it’s one of the reasons minho loves him and the same reason he _resents_ him. because maybe, yeah, with chan he doesn’t really know but sometimes, _sometimes_ he swears he’s sees chan go a little bit starry-eyed when he looks at him.

 

and minho thinks, _just kiss me already, just let yourself love me_ , _please i’m dying. i’m truly, truly going to die if you don’t just fucking kiss me_.

 

but chan doesn’t, he _won’t_ , and minho’s pretty sure that he never _will_ . because, maybe, most likely, chan knows that han loves minho too—and han is too precious, _too precious_ for chan to ever, ever hurt. and on one hand minho thinks, _well, yeah, i get it_ but on the other he’s kinda still like, _but what about me, channie? what about me? i’m hurt. doesn’t that count for something?_

 

so,

 

minho tries to insert himself into every open nook and cranny of chan’s life. tries to make himself as unavoidable as ever. he gets up to workout with him and the others in the early, morning hours, he’s all drowsy eyes and weak arms and a hard case of easy giggles, but, he doesn’t care. and it’s funny because, he thinks, maybe in another life, in some alternate universe, he’d just be this regular non-celebrity, who works from home and has a pretty flower garden and spends all his hours reading books and posting hilarious shit online and eating his little sweets-loving heart out. and he’d be chubby and live with his three—with six cats! and living his best, fluffy-cheeked, little, happy life! and he wouldn’t bother with _stupid_ , trivial things like lifting weights and unrequited love. god no, he’d be the happiest! and, yeah, maybe that’s just some _grass is always greener_ kinda bullshit, but it doesn’t change the fact that it makes him feel better, just thinking about it. daydreaming. sticking in his head in the clouds.

 

minho tries to push himself into chan’s life as deep as possible but nothing ever seems to work. and it’s embarrassing, _so_ embarrassing. childish how no matter where they are minho’s eyes are always fighting to not look for chan. he’s pulled to him like a magnet, on stage, at interviews, fan meets, v-lives, _everywhere_. sometimes he gets brave, and walks over to him, doing something cute or teasing and chan laughs or gives him playful funny faces and the occasional act of affection that sends electricity rushing through him, but then he’s gone, he always leaves, like he can’t stand to be that close to minho for very long. like he’ll break if he does. and it hurts.

 

it hurts, _it fucking hurts_.

 

sadder even, is the way that jisung always makes things better. how he always clings to minho’s side and messes with him until he breaks out into giggles and just distracts him and stops him from looking like such a hopeless, pining, sap. and the fans notice that part, they ship the two of them together: him and jisung and it’s just. again, a constant spiral of soul-eating guilt. why can’t he just be who everyone wants him to be? who everyone thinks he is? why can’t he just love han the way he’s _supposed_ to love him?

 

his love for chan is raw and ripe, imagines his heart like a thin-skinned lemon, and chan keeps on squeezing it, gets juice all over his fingers, acid staining his skin, with every touch he tortures minho with, every look, every sweetly muttered compliment, every overwhelming hug. chan blesses him and he curses him, he’s powerful like that. and minho’s so gone, so lost, he’s weak at the knees, spun out and dizzy with it.

 

it’s all so funny, he thinks, in a dark sorta way. the pain that he feels and the love that he feels and how every minute that goes by the two of those feelings start to bleed together, morph into one and soon that’s the only thing he feels, constantly. from the moment he wakes up, staring up at the top bunk, wondering if chan ever came home to use it, and then wondering the same thing all over again when the sun is gone and he’s back in bed.

 

it’s painful but, he tries to embrace it.

 

because, in all honesty, he did this to himself. it’s his fault for being such an awful greedy thing, such a poison. he entertained every fleeting thought, looked at chan a little too long far too many times, closed his eyes and thought about him in the best ways, the worst ways. he took these innocent moments and corrupted them, watered them, gave them sunlight and watched them grow into weeds and now—now it’s too much, too unruly, impossible to manage and he has no one to blame but himself.

 


	5. all that glitters/yoonkook

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yoonkook, alternate universe, faery realm, fantasy, drabble, soulmates, mentions of consuming blood, CL is yoongi's sister

 

Chaerin dips her limbs further into the pool, blonde hair turning dark in the warm water, flowing all around her. The white ceremony robes she’s dressed in, following suit, long and slitted at her thighs. Her bracelets, crystal necklaces, head dress all sparkling and clicking through the silence. She looks _sad_ —Jungkook doesn’t have any other way to describe it. The only emotion undeniably present in her kohl rimmed eyes was just _that;_ sadness. She won’t look at him. 

 

Her skin appears soft and supple and almost seemed to glitter in the early light of the day. She’s wearing a light glamour. It’s common practice in their world, as common as drinking blood on two moon days, or visiting the human realm to start trouble. So she looks soft and magical but she might not _really_ be. 

 

Well, so be it, Jungkook thinks. Whether she’s lying to feign beauty or lying to cover up just how truly distraught she really is, Jungkook is not upset by it. He never cared how Chaerin’s skin would feel underneath his fingertips, he only wondered how she endured all the scrubbing and prepping that came hand in hand with a ceremony like this. And all that talk about soulmates and weddings that no doubt happened right along with the preparation. 

 

Hoseok had told him that the women from their court had been readying Chaerin before the sun was even up and he knew how those women loved to rattle on and on. Jungkook thinks, it must be really heartbreaking to deal with that when you’re in love with someone else. 

 

If it was up to him, he wouldn’t make her do this. Jungkook doesn’t have anyone he loves that he’s potentially being pried away from so this whole thing is just easier for him. At least it’s supposed to be—it’s just not fair that Chaerin has to give so much up, the love of her life—her betrothed, all because of something so infuriatingly predetermined. He’s not bitter, he’s not—he’s not fooling anyone. _Of course_ , he’s bitter. Sure, he doesn’t love anyone _yet_ but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t dreamed of love. It doesn’t mean he wants his chance at finding love stolen away from him by chance, destiny, or whatever is truly behind this. It doesn’t feel _right_. Chaerin and him, _they_ don’t feel right. 

 

Jungkook sighs and inches towards the edge of the bonding pool. It’s small but very deep and oval-shaped and has been kept completely empty and spell-free for weeks in preparation for this ceremony. They couldn’t risk anyone else’s presence tampering with the purity of the ritual. He looks around at the crowd, standing on the marble floors seven feet away from the pool on all sides, distant enough to give them space, close enough to witness the event. Chaerin’s alone in the water and everyone outside of it is waiting, anxiously for Jungkook to join her. That’s how the ceremony works: two possible soulmates get inside of a bonding pool together and then—the water changes colors. If they’re soulmates, it will turn gold and if they’re not, the water will turn black.

 

Jungkook prays for black water. 

 

Chaerin’s a true born autumn princess, and the water reflects that, royal purple swirling around her form, pending, waiting for her prince. 

 

Jungkook’s heart beats wildly in his chest and he looks down at his own reflection in the clearest shade of turquoise he’s ever laid eyes on. He hasn’t quite found the nerve to take the plunge yet, to push himself in the mix. He feels like the second he does so the pool will turn gold and Chaerin’s heart is going to break into a million pieces. Because gold would mean the prediction was _right_. Gold would mean that they truly are soulmates, despite their age differences, their wishes, their status in the Spring and Autumn courts. Despite _everything_. That'll be it, the two of them will be instantly locked into a marriage bond that can only be broken by death. And everyone in the whole of both courts combined will have been here to witness it. 

 

The timing couldn’t be better, of course (at least that's what everyone seems so intent on saying) all things considered. The Fae courts make it a point to have a marriage between them every fifty years or so, a way to keep the peace. Summer and Winter courts being the most important pieces in that puzzle, considering if either court distanced themselves too much it could mean the end of the Fae world all together. Jungkook’s never been more behind the idea that Spring and Autumn royals should be free to marry whomever they feel like than he is now at this very moment. _It still matters_ a small voice in his head reminds him. _It all matters_. 

 

Now this whole soulmates business is an entirely separate matter on its own. And it makes everything about this ceremony _that much_ more daunting and fragile. Soulmates are an extremely rare, extremely prized and consequently extremely celebrated event in every nook, cranny and corner of the Fae realm. A soulmate bond produces the strongest magic currently known.The magic of true love. A magic that feeds their world, that gives life, that soaks into the roots and soil and nourishes the entire realm. A magic that’s very much needed to keep the Faery world healthy and _alive_ and prosperous. 

 

All four courts have appointed arcane elders in their houses, ones that are blessed with psychic gifts specifically to decipher and predict future soulmate births. And all four courts punish the rejection of a soulmate test—through the enchanted bonding pools—by death. 

 

Jungkook tries not to linger on the fact that the predictions are almost never wrong, he tries not to linger on it but he fails and it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth that he wants nothing more than to wash down with blood.

 

The crowd around them is humming quietly, waiting to witness something rare and extraordinary, waiting to watch as Jungkook finally gets inside of the water. Jungkook doesn’t feel like he can breathe anymore, the pool an almost dizzying thing to look at. He can’t even recognize his own reflection. _Who are you?_ He thinks, _Just get in the pool_. 

 

Chaerin finally looks up, her gaze unmistakably on Jungkook’s face and he lifts his head to meet her eyes. They’re dark, broken, furious. He knows it’s not directed at him, just what he represents but it’s powerful all the same. It makes him gasp all the same. She purses her lips together as she stares at him, water bleeding a violet color in a taunting whirlpool around her. Still pending. She’s in the center, and the look on her face is screaming ‘it’s time’. Like she _needs_ to get this over with now, she’s ready. 

 

The crowd all shares a hushed exhale as Jungkook closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and falls forward into the pool with a soft resounding splash.

 

Everything is white noise as Jungkook drops to the floor of the pool, keeping his eyes closed, buying time for just _one last_ minute. But he knows he has to face this, so only when he feels he might drown, he comes up for air. 

 

Jungkook gasps and pops the warm water out of his ears, a rude shade of crimson liquid fully surrounding his and Chaerin’s bodies. Her glamour is _gone_ as if broken by a more powerful magic present. She’s just as pretty as she was before only—she doesn’t glitter and her eyes show clear signs that she might’ve been crying for hours and hours, maybe even days. And now, she’s crying again, in front of everyone. She has black tears leaking down her cheeks and a hopeful look in her eyes. She frantically looks around to present royal courts families and elders. “What does it mean?” She’s asking, over and over again, practically shouting it. The crowd is louder, full of questions and opinions and doubts. 

 

Jungkook’s not sure this has ever happened before. He’s only ever known of two colors. Gold if you’re soulmates and black if you aren’t but this is red _,_ red is somewhere in between. Red is a giant question mark. 

 

Jungkook finds himself trying to catch Chaerin’s attention from across the way. The noisy crowd fades in the background as they lock eyes, blood rushing in his ears he knows deep down that they both are sharing the exact same thought. 

 

_They’re not soulmates._

 

Regardless of what the color means, it’s _not_ gold, which means being soulmates is indisputably ruled out. And Jungkook swears he can see magic dancing in Chaerin’s almond eyes. His heart celebrates. They can’t smile, it would be an insult to the elders but they share a look, a silent meaningful cheer. They can both finally _breathe_ again. Or at least he _thought_ they could but everyone in the court is in a frenzy.

 

The general consensus seems to be to get one of them out of the pool to see what the water does, if the water changes back to normal or if there is a possibility of foul play. Like someone sabotaging the sacred ceremony water with black magic. Just the idea sends chills down Jungkook’s spine. 

 

Jungkook guides Chaerin to the edge of the pool, accidentally making eye contact with someone who steps out of the crowd and walks closer to help her out of the water. It’s Chaerin’s brother, the youngest prince of the Autumn court, Yoongi. His eyes are black, almost glittering, crescent shaped. Hair an even paler blonde than Chaerin’s. There are pastel markings drawn into his skin, blue and silver bracelets on his wrists and he's wearing a sleeve-less lavender tunic. He’s _beautiful._ And it’s distracting because Yoongi’s _naturally_ beautiful, Jungkook’s never seen someone so attractive without a glamour on. 

 

Jungkook shakes his thoughts and watches briefly as Chaerin is eagerly helped out of the pool. The water instantly turns turquoise again, save for a small amount of forest green which dances around Jungkook’s body. A bloodline color. A color only those who truly belong in the royal party of the Spring court could have. So, that throws his childhood dreams that his father _stole_ him from somewhere out the window...

 

The crowds chatter only seems to grow more anxious about this but it’s silenced with the snap of his father’s fingers. This is happening in the spring court after all, and his father is the King, his authority is the highest here. He _must_ be respected. 

 

Jungkook feels goosebumps run all over his skin. He knows, deep down, his father is beyond disappointed. He had been so proud at the idea that his son, Jungkook, was born so blessed, was destined to breathe life into their very realm through the bond of _true love_. So _rare,_ so incredible, _his son._ His father had seen it as a fact, as an inevitability, had never once doubted the prediction could be anything but true and now—well, clearly, the prediction was _wrong_ . Jungkook can see the rage, the humiliation in his father's dark eyes. The blood lust smile carved on his lips. He’s contemplating, who to blame, how to punish them. Jungkook’s _scared_ for them. “Get out.” His father tells him, voice deep and commanding. Jungkook hurries to the edge. 

 

His hands slip on the wet marble, a large puddle left from Chaerin’s hasty exit, making it difficult for Jungkook to escape. And he’s starting to panic because everyone is watching him and his father’s anger is so palpable that it’s making him continue to lose his footing. It’s in that moment that Yoongi steps forward again. He bends slightly down and extends his pale arm out to Jungkook in attempt to help him out. Jungkook’s lips part and he looks up to meet his eyes in surprise.

 

The two of them, they’ve never spoken before.

 

It’s not common for Fae to do anything they haven’t been asked to do for a stranger unless they have plans to get something out of it. Even less common for Faery folk to hand out favors to anyone except humans, because humans are naive and easy to trick, obligate. 

 

Jungkook can tell, though, instantly, that Yoongi isn’t doing this for any reason except just to _help_ him. It’s startlingly refreshing in a world full of magic and deceit. So Jungkook finds himself reaching out and accepting Yoongi’s hand. Only—

 

Yoongi is small and fragile like a pretty bird, even the blue veins in his arms are dainty, and Jungkook should have seen it coming. Yoongi's effort is lost the second he has Jungkook's full weight tugging at his arm, a stunning and foreign electricity shooting through their interlocked fingers, and he falls forward instead. Falls right into the pool with Jungkook.

 

Jungkook winces as the crowd shrieks in shock. The force of the fall causes them to both sink deep underneath the water, hands still clasped together, bubbles floating around them. Jungkook opens his eyes and finds himself looking right back into Yoongi's. He looks even more breathtaking under the golden water, those black crescent eyes, squint and sparkle, pale white hair flowing in slow motion around his head. That’s when they both realize—they look at each other in disbelief and frantically, they swim to the surface.

 

Yoongi gasps as he comes up for air, the entire crowd around them so silent if Jungkook were blind he might actually believe the two of them were _alone_. And it’s _true_ , it’s real, the bonding pool is glowing from a strong magic unlike anything Jungkook’s ever felt, so pure, it’s _glittering_. 

 

Everything is gold.


	6. storm clouds/minchan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> minchan, minho pov, quick drabble 
> 
>  

 

The first time Minho saw Chris was at the office. It was his first day of work. Back then, Minho was just a wide-eyed intern in a button-down shirt, a side part in his chestnut brown hair, with a nervous twitch at the tips of his fingers. 

 

They were all the way up on the fourth floor of the building, big glass windows looking out towards the city. He did his best to stand as far from walls as he possibly could, his childhood fear of heights being triggered almost full force at the sight of the glass that was practically ceiling to floor, so clear and daunting. Yet...somehow the unavoidable view made Minho feel both a little bit optimistic and a little bit dizzy. Because, sure, it was terrifying but it was also truly beautiful.

 

 It was mid-afternoon, birds sunbathing, dancing in the wind, pale blue skies just outside—while inside, everything was chaos. Phones ringing off the hook, everyone was all high heels and ironed clothing, running around the floor, desperate to meet their deadlines. 

 

Minho was just happy to have something promising, right after university. There was no way of knowing back then, how this day would change his life forever, how his heart didn’t stand a chance. 

 

Chris had walked into Minho’s life draped in unprofessional black, from his backwards cap all the way down to his slip-on shoes—and Minho had instantly pinned him for a fictional character lost in the wrong reality. Not because he seemed particularly cartoonish—rather he just didn’t seem quite _real_ , not happy either, breath quick and short with a questionable air of anxiety. He just seemed like he didn’t belong and that—god, that was a _problem_ because it made Minho curious and—and even back then, there was something inexplicably magnetic about Chris. Something that was...just... impossible to ignore. And Minho could _feel_ it with a sharp and maddening intensity, like a punch to the gut. 

 

Chris’s eyes were dim and sad and void of light, his shoulders appeared as if they were carrying some terrible burden. He avoided all eye contact as he strolled in, an important looking MacBook hugged within his pale-skinned and veiny arms. Which was, coincidentally, Minho’s _second_ problem, considering he’d always had a _thing_ for a reasonable amount of visible veins and—

 

Chris had walked towards Minho and all the other trembling interns carrying his own personal wind and storm clouds right along with him. The light scent of his tropical cologne and shampoo was present and so alluring as he strode towards the conference room, dead set on his destination like he was heading to the gallows. Minho was at the end of the little group of newbies, right by the conference room door, just watching him because he couldn’t think to look away. 

 

Chris was so close as he passed, _so close_ that it unexpectedly _terrified_ Minho and he sucked in a sharp breath powerful enough that it actually disrupted a curl of dark hair tucked behind Chris’s ear. And then Chris froze and so did Minho without a second’s delay, his heart hammering in his chest. And that was it, that was the first time that Chris and Minho ever knowingly made eye contact, and it took Minho’s breath away all over again. 

 

Because...Chris looked at him like he was unwillingly looking right into his soul. Like he didn’t want to but he had no control over it. Chris looked at him as if he hadn’t looked at anyone in years and like the effort alone was enough to be painful, bringing unwelcomed tears to the corners of his grey eyes and Minho was in absolute awe of the moment, how surprisingly intimate it was, how jarring. And _god_ , he should have known, he should have fucking known, right there and then. How, how— 

 

Chris looked away, head down, eyes low, seemingly he tore himself away from the moment and walked past and through the threshold of the conference room door and Minho stood there—he just _stood there_ , head swimming and heart pounding so _loudly_ the entire world could have tuned in. 

 


End file.
